Thank you to my betas: Adt216 & korinneraylie

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the characters associated with it.

CHAPTER THREE

-The Post Coital-

What are the symptoms of a hangover?

Nausea and headaches often caused by way too much fucking alcohol. Can be identified by the ashtray in one's mouth, the vomit on last night's clothes, the want to never drink or eat again, the great dislike of sunlight, the undesirable urge to apologize to all the people you spent the night with, the stranger in your bed and the need for a glass of water and many, many Tylenol.

I groan as I roll over in bed, digging my head deep within the confines of my pillows. I can relate to all the symptoms except the vomit on last night's clothes part - I have a strong stomach. Yes, my mouth tastes like someone took a dump in it. Yes, the sunlight filtering through my curtains is about as welcome as Oprah in Texas. And yes, there appears to be a stranger in my bed.

How do I know this without even opening an eyelid? Well, the stranger sharing my bed seems to have a rather – persistent – snore. It was the deep, gurgling sound that actually woke me from my sleep in the first place.

I finally crack an eyelid and my eyes fall on the digital clock beside my bed. I sigh heavily, wishing that I can get at least another two hours of sleep. I slowly turn my head to avoid waking my bunkmate and my eyes fall on a heap of strawberry blond curls. I can't even see what her face looks like underneath the mop of hair and seeing that I was completely shit faced last night, I can't recall it from memory. I notice the soft slope of her back and the curve of her ass. Flashes of twisting limbs and breathy moans assault me and a slow smile spreads my lips. Not bad.

I turn and swing my legs off the bed, my feet falling with a soft thud on the cherry wood floors of my bedroom. I grab my jeans from the floor and slip them on as I make my way towards the kitchen, scratching the stubble on my jaw.

Water. Now.

I swallow down two Tylenol and grab a Twinkie, which I devour even before my ass falls down on my living room couch, and dig my Blackberry out of my jeans pocket. I have two texts. One from Emmett sent at three o'clock this morning.

You and Red will make beautiful ginger babies. Remember to wrap your monkey, fucker! Em

I laugh at this and scroll down to the second text. Wait…what? Miss Swan?

Sent on Saturday, 06:17

Mr. Cullen. Remember our meeting at noon tomorrow, my place. And bring your manuscript.

Isabella Swan

Mother fuck.

The events of yesterday suddenly come crashing down on me, and I finally understand the reason for drinking myself into a stupor last night. The fucking proposition! I carelessly throw my phone on the couch pillow beside me and roughly run my hands over my face. Shit.

I think about our meeting last night and the fucking chirpy way she ended it, sending me off on my mission to deplete the entire liquor supply of the general Seattle area. I didn't do a bad job of it either…call me reliable if you will. When I set my mind to something, there is very little that will stop me from achieving my goal. And based on the hollow feeling in my stomach and the headache pounding in my ears, I achieved my goal and then some. I sigh as I drop my head on the back of the couch. Good fucking morning, Edward.

After a long shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and warily make my way back into my room to grab a clean pair of boxers and jeans. I quickly glance at The Hoover still fast asleep and spread across the whole expanse of my bed. It's really hard to believe that a sound like that can be attached to such a pleasant looking body. I shrug and hurry back to my living room, jeans and boxers in hand.

After about an hour of running the conversation with Miss Swan back and forth through my mind, I hear someone clear her throat behind me.

"Hey," a scratchy voice greets. Smoking is a bitch.

"Hey," I say, leaning my elbows on my knees and dropping my head. I'm almost afraid to lift my eyes, but realize I must look like a complete dick…which I am, but she doesn't need to know this yet. I turn my head lazily and look at her sideways. My eyes fall on the tall figure of a woman, leaning against the doorframe of my bedroom. Well hello Hoover. She's wearing one of my t-shirts. I should probably be pissed off at her nerve, but she looks fucking good. It's quite obvious that she's not wearing anything underneath. My cock winks its approval. We keep staring at each other for a charged moment, and the corners of her lips curl up, making her look like the fucking Cheshire cat. I can't help but smirk back.

Sex is a bizarre thing. We are two complete strangers, but after only one night together, I know her better than her parents probably do. I know what makes her body sigh, yet I don't remember her name. I know what makes her scream, yet I don't know where she lives. I remember she has a small beauty mark below her right breast, yet I don't know what she does for a living. I can make her beg and pray to the gods, yet I can't make her coffee because I don't even know how she fucking drinks it, or whether she drinks coffee at all. Yes, sex is a very…very bizarre thing indeed.

"Bathroom?" she asks and licks her lips slowly.

I nod my head in the direction of the my bathroom in answer and keep my eyes on her body as she pushes herself off the doorframe and makes her way across my living room. She notices me looking and puts a little extra swagger in her hips. It's on. I know we're gonna fuck before she leaves.

I drop my head when I hear the bathroom door close and absentmindedly pull on my hair. I should probably be thinking about how I'm going to get The Hoover out of my house once we've fucked our goodbyes but my mind can only focus on one thing - Miss Swan. The way I reacted to her body yesterday is fucking disturbing. I just need to keep my head in the game and come up with a proper list of rules before I set foot in her house tomorrow.

Fuck…I should have discussed this with Emmett last night. But, when I reached the pub, he was already practically wasted. I was running late due to my meeting with the Ice Queen. His main mission from the second I walked in was to get me on "the same level" as he, so the tequila shots were lined up before you could say I'm going home with a redhead tonight.

I need to phone Emmett and have him come over. If anyone can come up with some bat-shit-crazy-ass rules, it's him. With my mind made up, I can feel the pressure on my chest release ever so slowly and the pounding in my ears decreasing to a mild patter. Miss Swan is going down.

"So…?" I jump slightly as I hear The Hoover speaking from the bathroom door.

"So…" I keep my head lowered in my hands. I don't have to look up to know she will be making her way over to me soon enough. Girls like The Hoover are extremely easy to figure out…too easy…too brain numbingly easy.

As if on cue, I hear her feet shuffle over the hardwood floors until her toes come into my line of vision. She has ugly toes. I lift my head and lazily fall against the back of the couch, slowly trailing my eyes up her body, making sure to pause on each…vital…part…before settling my indifferent eyes on hers. Always make them think they have something to prove. She smirks at me as if she knows the game I'm playing.

Huh.

Maybe I've been too quick to judge. The Hoover has moves. I return her smirk and slowly pat my jean covered thighs. Her grin turns cocky and I chuckle softly as she climbs on me.

This girl has played the game, and I can't help but get the feeling that the roles are usually reversed, where she is the one that makes the men beg.

I keep my hands at my sides and my head tilted back against the couch. If she wants this, she'll have to come and get it. We eye fuck the shit out of each other, neither one of us willing to make the first move.

"You're arrogant," she says softly, placing her hands beside my head, grabbing onto the back of the couch. Her new position brings her breasts flush against my chest and her pussy against the button fly of my jeans, and I can feel the heat seeping through the thick material covering me.

I shrug, keeping my eyes focused on hers and my hands still. Her eyes are ice blue, and even though they should seem colder than the coffee brown eyes I look into everyday, they are actually warmer.

"I'm Tanya," she whispers seductively.

"I don't care," I say with a lopsided grin. And then her mouth is on mine and my hands are gripping her ass aggressively. I push her flush against me and slightly lift my hips, creating a delicious friction and a long moan from The Hoover, which I swallow with my mouth. She's pulsing down on me and my cock is fighting to break from its confines. Her tongue is practically raping my mouth. Although she's not a great kisser, she's eager and I like that. Her breath is minty, and I desperately hope that she didn't clean her teeth with my toothbrush That's just fucking vulgar.

"Shit," she breathes as she pulls away from my mouth and starts kissing my neck, her hands scratching down my bare chest. Her hips are relentless and I groan in frustration as I try to push her off me, but simultaneously push her down because the friction is just too damn good to stop.

"You're gonna make me cum this way." I warn her as I reach my right hand underneath my t-shirt that she's wearing and roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. I use my other hand to pull the t-shirt over her head. No fucking way I'm letting her leave here with. Once I toss it to the floor, I reach behind her and dip my fingers between her lips. She's soaking wet.

"Fuck. Fuck." She moans and throws her head back, giving me a perfect view of her tits. She's a bit too small for my liking, but beggars can't be choosers, so I lean forward and take her nipple in my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. "Jesus…" She's riding me like a tornado at this point. I don't want to cum in my pants like some pubescent teenager, so I lift my mouth from her nipple and trail my tongue up to her neck.

"I want to fuck you," I whisper in her ear as two of my fingers enter her while she keeps the stimulation on her clit going against my jeans.

"Yessss," she hisses and bucks against me wildly.

I'm about to lift her off me in order to unbutton my jeans, when my phone rings.

"Please ignore it," she practically whimpers and clamps her knees against my hips in an effort to stop me from reaching for my phone. "I'm so close."

I decide to help her out, and besides, if it's urgent the person calling can leave a message. I increase my finger's efforts and rub her breast with the palm of my other hand.

"Do you want to come, Tanya?" I say her name because I know it will push her over the edge just as I twist my fingers inside her pussy and rub that spot.

The Hoover cries out like an African tribal leader at exactly the same moment my phone starts ringing again. I allow her to ride out her orgasm on top of me, still stroking her pussy as her juices coat my hand.

"Fuck me," she sighs once her body stops shaking.

"That's the plan," I say absentmindedly as I search for my phone that has stopped ringing. I find it between the couch cushions where it probably fell earlier after I read the text from Miss Swan.

I check my missed calls and see that both of them are from Emmett. I press dial.

"Hey, douche!" Emmett shouts, causing me to wince and pull the phone away from my ear. In the mean time, The Hoover has shimmied off my lap and is now sitting on her knees between my parted legs, her hands deftly working on the buttons of my jeans. I raise an eyebrow at her and she shrugs with grin, licking her lips.

Okay.

"Hey, man," I sigh, running my hand through my hair and watching the progress between my legs with interest.

"You bone Red?" He asks bluntly, and I cringe at the thought that Red, or as I like to call her, The Hoover may have heard. If she did, she doesn't show it. I suck in a sharp breath as she grips my hard cock firmly in her hand, her eyes wide and hungry.

"Busy," is all I'm able to manage as she lowers her lips to the head of my cock.

"You boning that broad while I'm on the phone with you?" Emmett should sound disgusted at the thought of talking to his friend on the phone while he's having sex, but he sounds proud instead.

"Not exactly." I fight to keep the moan building in my chest from escaping through my mouth as The Hoover practically sucks my whole length into her mouth…without gagging. And it's not like I'm small. Far from it. I wonder momentarily if her lack of a gag reflex is due to her snoring habits. I decide that she must have had plenty of practice and that I will definitely be buying a new toothbrush.

"You're getting head, aren't you?" Emmett interrupts.

"Emmett," I growl in frustration.

"Sorry. Listen, I'm coming over later, so get your rocks off and get rid of your lady friend." And with that, the line goes dead. I throw the phone back on the couch and moan deeply as The Hoover gently runs her teeth up my length while cupping my balls.

I was right. The Hoover has moves.

A few moments later I come long and hard down her throat, releasing all the tension of the previous day in strong spurts. I help her to her feet and out of the door.

I'm not an asshole…I think. It's not like I kick her out butt naked. I give her a chance to clean up a bit and put on her clothes from the previous night. I give her a peck on the cheek as a silent thanks, "now fuck off". We don't exchange numbers or any further gestures. It's nice to be with a woman who actually understands that what we did doesn't necessarily constitute a relationship.

I sigh happily as I close the door behind me and once again grab for my phone to call Emmett. I'm feeling so relaxed after my earlier activities that my limbs feel like melted butter as I stretch myself out on the couch.

"You done yet?" Emmett answers his phone.

"Yeah. Listen, you need to come to my place."

"I thought we already established that earlier."

"I know. I just need to make sure that you don't get sidetracked by Rosalie again. I need to discuss something really urgent with you," I explain, fastening the last button of my jeans.

"Everything okay, bro?" he asks, and I appreciate the concerned undertone in his voice.

"Yeah – yeah. Just need your advice," I reassure him.

"Must be about a chick then." I hear the cocky smirk in his voice.

"Something like that." I shrug although I know he can't see me. "Bring beer."

"Done."

xoxo

With Love...

Your Mistress

xoxo